


Slow Ride

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Smut, bullriding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: Yeah, you all should have known this was coming… They don’t call me Cowgirl for nothing… Written (coincidentally - timing is everything :D ) for the Smut Apocalypse (Smut Appreciation Day) on Tumblr.





	

Holy. Shit.

Seriously, how much is a girl supposed to take? You share rooms with these guys, watch them walk around half-dressed, banter back and forth with them. You take Dean’s suggestive, flirty comments and respond in kind, telling yourself it’s all part of your friendship.

And then he does this.

Of all things, a mechanical bull. You thought those things died out with Urban Cowboy. But now, as you stand watching with your jaw clenched, and your nails digging into your palms, and your thighs clamped together, Dean is riding the fuck out of Larry, the centerpiece of the bar you went into for the sole reason of grabbing some burgers.

You can’t tear your eyes from him as his body sways, looking like he’s part of that saddle. The muscles of his thighs are tight, holding firm, his torso lean and lithe as he moves with it, sinuous and sexy as hell. One arm waves above his head, giving him the balance he needs, the other bicep bunched and bulging beneath the plaid shirt, unbuttoned at the front to allow your eyes to cruise over where his t-shirt clings to his pecs, his ribs, his belly.

“Do you know him?” the waitress whispers, and you nod, your lips parted and your eyes glued to Dean as the ride ends, and he slowly lowers himself back, sprawled and smiling. “Lucky you,” she says, turning to go back to work, and you blow out a breath, closing your mouth and lowering your eyes.

Air. You need some air.

You hear him call out your name as you yank the side door open, stepping out into the cool night air and taking a deep breath. Jesus, you’re shaking. There’s a rail fence a few steps away, and you move towards it, bracing your arms on it and hanging your head. You have to get hold of yourself before you have to face him again. Right now, if he saw you, he’d know. All the determination you’ve had to keep things platonic, the denial that you’re attracted to him like you’ve never been to anyone in your entire life, the insistence that you’re just friends, the complete and utter embarrassment if he knew… because you know he doesn’t think of you that way. He never has. He flirts and teases, because that’s who he is. But he’d never let himself get involved, he’s always been adamant about keeping his ‘activities’ in the anonymous, one-night-stand category.

You hear the door open behind you, but you keep your grip on the fence and your eyes looking out over the field beyond. “Hey, Y/N – tell me you saw me ride that bull just now! I was fucking awesome!”

You force a little laugh. “Yes, Dean, I saw you. You were pretty awesome.” You put a smile on your face and turn to see him, a proud grin on his face, his eyes lit up and happy. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I dunno. I just did it. Just have to move with it,” he says, rocking his hips a little for emphasis. “Kinda like making love.” He’s still grinning, and he does that little thing with his eyebrows, and you feel your face grow warm and your knees wobble a little. His smile slowly fades as he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing a bit as they travel over your face, the way you’re standing, your hands braced behind you on the fence, your legs crossed, thighs squeezed together. “You liked it.”

You blush even more, dying a little inside, and your voice squeaks when you respond with a “What?” You clear your throat and continue. “Of course I did, you were amazing.”

He steps closer, looking down at you with that maddening, knowing smirk on his lips. “No, I mean you _really liked_ it. It turned you on. Didn’t it, Y/N?”

You make a derisive face at him, blowing a puff of air between your lips as you shake your head. “Oh, come on, Winchester. Get over yourself.”

He moves even closer, and you avert your face, refusing to look up at him. He’s close, the warmth of his body, the smell of his aftershave, the whiskey he’s been drinking, the utter maleness of him wafting over you until you can’t think straight. He brushes hair back from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear before moving a finger to your chin, tilting your face up towards his. The teasing note is gone from his voice when he speaks, and you feel your insides quiver. “Do you… do you want me, Y/N? Tell me the truth, sweetheart.”

The breath is frozen in your lungs as you stare into his intense green gaze, trapped there, almost unable to speak. “Yes. Okay? Yes. Now go ahead, have a good laugh.” You jerk yourself away from his touch, move as quickly as you can back to the door and inside to the safety of the crowd.

He comes in behind you, and you feel your eyes on him as you go to the bar, ordering a shot, then another with a beer to chase it. He stands beside you and orders one for himself, not saying a word, and you turn away, carrying your drinks back to a table. It’s last call, and people are drifting out, the crowd thinning, and you’re wishing the motel was within walking distance, anything but the ride back in the intimate confines of the Impala with Dean and your humiliation.

He leaves you alone, and you’re grateful for that, at least. You nurse your beer along, dreading the moment you have to leave with him, wishing like hell that you weren’t so awkward right now. Your mind is off in its own little space, and when you look up to see the owner locking the door, you’re surprised to see that you and Dean are the only other people left.

“I’m sorry, we’ll get out of your way,” you say, rising to your feet, but the man smiles, holding up a hand to wave away your apology.

“No problem, little lady. I’ll just leave you to it.” He walks over to Dean, drops the keys into his hand, and winks. “Just lock up when you’re done and put the keys in the lock box by the back door. And lock the door behind me, don’t want any stragglers coming in here begging for a drink. The booze is all locked up, by the way. Don’t want my license yanked for serving after hours.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean lets him out the door, locking it behind him, and you’re still standing at the table, staring in disbelief.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?”

He turns towards you, a barely-there smirk curving his tempting lips, his eyes gleaming with a light you haven’t seen before. “I told him you wanted to learn to ride. But you were too shy to do it in front of everyone.” He’s moving to the windows, lowering the blinds, and you realize your heart is hammering against your chest so hard that it just might escape. The last blind drops into place, and he walks over to the jukebox, feeding money into it and making a few selections. Black Betty begins to play, and he adjusts the volume down a notch before turning to face you again, striding slowly but purposefully towards you. “What do you say, sweetheart? You wanna ride the bull?”

He brushes his fingers over your cheek, and you feel like there’s fire in the wake of his touch. There’s no smile now, no amusement in his expression, just heat, and when his lips touch yours, you almost go down. His arm snakes around your waist, supporting you as his tongue tickles over your lips and you part them, reveling in the taste of him. He slants his mouth against yours and you devour each other, barely remembering to breathe. As you break apart, gasping for air, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt, watching his own hands as he works, parting the fabric and running his tongue over his bottom lip as he stares down at you. “Fuck, baby girl,” he whispers, then yanks you against him again, his lips crashing into yours, hungry, one hand cupping your lace-covered breast as he moans into your mouth.

He pulls you with him, climbing up onto the padding surrounding the mechanical bull, slipping your shirt off of your arms and tossing his flannel shirt onto the saddle as he rids himself of it and then his t-shirt. He’s reaching for the button on your jeans and you help, pushing them down as you slip off your boots, teetering in the squishy padding, but he’s holding you, his eyes taking in every inch of you that’s exposed as you kick them off. You turn to bend and pull off your socks, his hand smoothing over your ass, kneading, and you feel his breath on your neck as his lips touch there, his tongue slipping out to taste your skin as he sucks gently. He tugs on your panties a little, whispering in your ear. “You won’t need these.” He pulls them down, dropping to one knee in front of you as you step out of them, leaning in to place an almost chaste kiss to your mound.

You reach behind you to unclasp your bra as he finishes stripping down, and you both moan as you look up at each other. “Holy shit, Dean,” you manage you say, staring at the absolute beauty of the man before you, reaching out to run a finger over the head of his leaking cock as he stares ravenously at your breasts, reaching out to take a nipple between his fingertips.

“Right backatcha, sweetheart,” he rasps out, grunting at your touch on his sensitive flesh. “I wouldn’t do that… too much,” he manages, and you pull your hand back, whimpering at his little pinch on your nipple. He turns towards the bull, spreading his shirt over the leather, and an ‘oohhhhhh’ leaves your lips as he climbs into the saddle. “You coming?” he asks, and you nod.

“Almost.” He huffs out a little laugh, holding out a hand as you put your toes in the stirrup and pull yourself up. He swears as you swing your leg over him, his arm securely around your waist and pulling you close, his lips taking yours in a scorching kiss as he nestles you up against him, hot and rigid against your soft, slick folds.

“All the dirty fantasies I’ve had about you and me, I’ve never had one this good,” he growls, bucking against you as you throw your head back.

“You’ve had dirty fantasies about me?” You can hardly believe it, and you want him to repeat it, forever.

“Jesus, baby girl, all the time,” he says, his voice rasping, his eyes squeezed shut, grinding against you. He opens them to stare down at you, not moving for a moment, and you’re breathless at the feeling of him against you. “Dean, please…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants out, both hands on your waist, lifting you. You reach for him, your fingers almost cool around the hot length of him, holding him in place as he lowers you slowly. You shudder as he sheathes himself in you, your pussy quivering around him, filling you until you swear you can’t take any more. “Breathe,” he whispers, and you whine as you inhale, impaled in the most luscious way, unable to even move yet. “You okay?” he whispers again, nuzzling your ear, and you let him hold you against him, letting you adjust, his calloused hands smoothing over your back, your hips, his lips nibbling at the tender skin beneath your ear.

Another second, and you nod, resting your forehead against his should for a moment before straightening up to look at him. “I’m good… so good,” you manage, and his eyes twinkle as he smiles. He brings a hand up from down beside him, holding a joystick remote, and your eyes widen a little.

“Okay, baby girl. You ready to ride?” Some kind of incoherent noise makes its way from your throat, and as he starts the bull, a gentle buck and roll beneath you, you hear ‘Slow Ride’ begin on the speakers. You can’t stifle a giggle, and Dean grins at you triumphantly.

“You are ridiculous,” you laugh, gasping as he moves inside you.

“And you love it,” he retorts, putting the remote back in its holder as you begin to move and your words, your thoughts, fade away. Pure sensation floods you, the undulating motion beneath you, the slick drag of his cock inside you, your thighs stretched over the top of his, opening you completely and allowing him to get so deep you swear you can feel it in your chest. He holds you, hands on your thighs, as you begin to move with the motion of the bull, unable to control the sounds you make. You put your hands behind his neck, letting your back arch as you move, his heated gaze on your body making you feel fearless, all inhibition completely gone as you throw yourself into the moment. “Fuck, sweetheart. You ride that bull, baby.” He sounds wrecked as he urges you on, and you feel wild, unchained, at his words, the sounds he’s making beneath you. You raise one arm, just like you saw him do, your body rolling as you ride him, and he swears before bending his head to take your nipple into his mouth.

One swirl of his tongue sends you careening over the edge, and you shout his name, suddenly needing to clutch him tight as you explode, every muscle clenched and every nerve on fire, and for a few moments you feel limitless, omniscient. You begin to come down, feeling him pulsing inside you, reaching his own end, and you cling to each other, sweaty and trembling as the machine beneath you slows, then stops.

Foghat’s Slow Ride fades into silence, leaving only the sounds of you and Dean panting, hearts gradually slowing. His hands move up your body, coming up to cradle your face as he leans back from you just enough to kiss you, slow and lazy. You whimper a little into the kiss as he twitches inside you, drinking in his answering moan.

He holds you, his fingers in your hair, and you let out a satisfied sigh. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” you breathe out against his shoulder, kissing his skin and nestling against him.

“Up to now, anyway,” he teases, and you sit up to look into his eyes, the grin on his face lighting them up and making you smile. He kisses you again, then sighs. “Well, my little cowgirl, I only got this place for an extra hour. We’d better get going.”

You’re both laughing as you awkwardly dismount from Larry’s back, gathering your clothes and dressing quickly between little kisses and touches. One last look around before you step out the door, and Dean locks it, dropping the keys into the lock box. He takes your hand as you head for the Impala, a little chuckle making you look up at him, curious.

“What?”

“Wonder what Sam would say if I asked to set one of those up in the bunker?”


End file.
